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Artist: Leni Diehr

The hairbrush is an unassuming object. It lies in the bathroom, in a bag, on the dresser—an everyday item, almost overlooked.

More than just a knot forms in the hair.
Time settles in, days become tangled, thoughts get caught.
Conflicts and confusion are tightly knotted in one’s own hair.
Hair holds memories—both good and bad.
Every knot tells a story of tension, closeness, or memories.
The hairbrush combs through these traces, but with determination; it can untangle or entangle.

The brush can comb out knots and thus untangle them.
The brush can sense the resistance and decide to fight against it.
The brush can avoid tangles or stop trying to untangle them.
The brush can intensify tension.
The brush can create a problem all its own.

In the end, loose hairs remain in the brush.
Remnants of what once was.
Not lost, but collected.
The hairbrush thus becomes an archive.

The hairbrush—an object that can touch, organize, confuse, remind, loosen, and strengthen.

Hair holds on, grows with us, changes—and is thus an incredibly personal repository of experiences.
Brushing hair is often seen as a necessary and nurturing activity and is associated with things like cleanliness and order.
But what if the hairbrush is understood not merely as a means to an end, but as a tool?
A tool just for oneself that represents a connection to one’s memories.
A tool that represents the body—or rather, the hair—not as an object but as a repository or archive.

That’s why I designed small doilies and embroidered them with shiny beads to give the hairbrush a place—a resting place, a place of appreciation. It no longer lies around haphazardly in the bathroom but gets its own spot where its power is no longer dormant.